Against the Tide (36 page)

‘We need to give them a demonstration – make them back off.'

‘Demonstration, yes – laugh, no. You'd need to hit the stern post several times to dislodge the ring bolt, unless you think you're good enough to shoot through the davit line.'

I dropped to one knee and braced the stock against the port stanchion, trying to focus on the dinghy's transom. Fred was right – it was like trying to thread a needle while running. ‘If Saul cuts our speed, it will be steadier.'

‘Won't make much difference. We could hit a small wave at any moment and throw your aim off by fifty feet.'

‘We can't do nothing, Uncle.'

‘Here.' He handed me the binoculars. With their much wider field of vision, I could focus on the dinghy but it was still blurred by our relative movements. He was right. I tracked the glasses along the hull to the wheelhouse.

‘
Merde
!'

The little man's sneering face snapped into focus. Then the bastard raised a black object and rested it on the cabin, pointing it towards me. I handed the glasses back. ‘What's he got in his hand?'

Fred adjusted the binoculars. ‘Looks like a small automatic – probably a nine millimetre Beretta. No danger at this range but if he gets alongside we could be in trouble.' Fred touched my shoulder gently. ‘Perhaps we should wait – see what they want? Shooting now could start a war.'

I called to Saul, ‘Throttle back – take us down to five knots. Let's see if they get any closer.'

Saul didn't argue. The revs dropped and we could now hear the gentle swish of the displaced water as the boat settled into almost a walking pace. The other boat continued to close until they were about one hundred yards away then slowed to match our speed. A much easier target now.

‘I think they just want to follow us, Uncle. How important is this meeting?'

His voice was dry. ‘Not enough for a life, Jack. I think they've got the point. If you stand down, I think they'll back off.'

I felt like John Mills in the film
Brown on Resolution
. He'd held a German battle cruiser and its entire crew captive with a stolen Mauser rifle. But this wasn't a film. I hated the bastard for what he'd done to me. The pain of the blow was beyond my experience but the match over my petrol-soaked body had been an act of terror. Would
he
hesitate to shoot?

I clambered onto the wheelhouse roof then took up a prone shooting position. This was much better. The relative movement was greatly reduced. I was sure I could hit something as large as their dinghy but hitting a metal tube or even a mast was far too ambitious.

‘Where's their petrol tank, Saul?'

‘Below the waterline aft I would guess. No, Jack. Don't even think of it. They'd blow up – literally.'

It was tempting. My kidney still ached and the bastard had been right – I had pissed blood. A shot into their engine would absorb the bullet but Saul was right – it might cause an explosion. I removed the scope and placed it by my side.

‘What are you doing?' Alan seemed surprised.

‘Field of vision is too narrow. I need to see the whole of the target. Iron sights are fine at this range.'

I was confident now that I could hit the dinghy. Fred was worried about starting a war? Yet he kept telling me it had been going on for years. My throat was dry but I managed to croak. ‘Distance?'

‘One hundred and holding.'

‘Are we still alone?'

Alan answered. ‘Not even a bloody seagull.'

Sweat trickled down my forehead. I blinked it away. The transom of their dinghy gyrated in my sights. We couldn't stay like this all afternoon. We had the advantage. We mustn't let it slip away.

‘Saul, when I shoot, go to full speed and get us away from them.' I hesitated, running Fred's worries through my mind. Of course he was right. This would be foolish and dangerous. You couldn't recall a bullet. Bugger it. Too much thinking. I was paralysed with indecision again. Pain slapped my kidney.

The exhaust coughed but Rachel's voice – unmistakable this time – cut through my head. ‘Do it, Jack!'

35

I braced my shoulder, held my breath and squeezed the trigger gently. The muzzle crack was spectacular but I'd worked another round into the chamber before the little bastard reacted. The bullet smashed through the dinghy's transom before he heard the rifle shot. He turned in surprise as my second round sliced into it again.

The cruiser's prow dropped, quickly followed by its occupants. Someone cut the throttle as my third bullet hit something metallic and ricocheted away. We could hear the gearbox screeching as he thrust it into reverse. He was too late. The dinghy's stern plummeted onto the cruiser's transom and bounced into its wake.

The splintering crash echoed towards us as the cruiser, it's engines screaming, smashed into the remains of the dinghy. As it turned away from us, I could read its name:
Morning Mist
. I scrambled back into the cockpit and handed the rifle to Alan as Saul pushed the throttles wide and the diesels hammered into life.

Rachel's eyes were wide with fear. Her mouth opened but nothing emerged. Malita wrapped her arm round her and shot Fred a withering look.

Fred's voice was strained. ‘Well that's that then – stalemate. It'll buy us some time but we'll need to fox them somehow. We can't risk them seeing who we're meeting.'

‘Meeting, what meeting? What's going on, Jack?' Rachel sounded desperate. ‘Who told you to shoot?'

Annoyed with her change of heart, I snapped back. ‘You did, you shouted out “
Do
it!” – like you did in that match.'

Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘No. No. I said, “
Don't
do it!” – just as I did last time. Oh, Jack, what have you done?'

Fred filled the silence. ‘He misheard you. It's done now. We have to accept that.' He looked at each of us in turn. ‘Perhaps we shouldn't have – but don't blame Jack. I could have stopped him. Look, it's worked, they're keeping well back. We can be sure they won't make an official complaint. Do you want to continue, Saul?'

He nodded his agreement. Miko seemed more enthusiastic and even smiled at me. Malita shrugged. Rachel looked across at the other boat, bit her lip then turned back and held my eyes. There was accusation but understanding. Could it be trust?

Alan retrieved the three brass cartridge cases, slipped them into his pocket then aimed the rifle. ‘Count me in. If she gets too close, I'll pop some more into her hull.'

‘No you won't. Just look as though you might. There'll be no more shooting. Understand?' Fred sounded fierce.

Alan nodded reluctantly.

Fred grabbed my elbow and tugged me towards the cabin. ‘Jack and I have to talk. We need a plan.'

Saul took the wheel back from Miko and steered us towards Marmotier, the middle islet where most of the cottages, including my cousin's, were situated.

Maître Ile was off to port and we were transiting towards the distinctive Bigorne rock before we agreed the plan. Instead of swinging through the main stream towards the lagoon, Saul would take us round to the north of the treacherous reef. Our followers had kept at least 400 yards behind and were maintaining station. We had to lead them away from the rendezvous. If they didn't know these waters well enough with this falling tide pushing hard to the northwest, we might even be able to lure them onto the rocks.

As we rounded the easternmost point, we were temporarily out of sight of our pursuers. Saul increased speed heading north then swung us round, mere yards from the closest rocks.

Fred pulled his waterproof burlap sack from the cabin and I stripped off before placing my shorts, shirt and sandals into it. I waited for him to do the same but he seemed hesitant. Malita looked at him and shrugged in her expressive way.

I'd never seen my uncle in a swimming costume before. Now I knew why. His back was as brutalised as Miko's and his chest was pitted with black holes. I managed not to gasp but Rachel looked horrified. Miko nodded in understanding. Saul was too busy holding the boat on the throttles to notice and Alan still had the rifle trained on the point where our pursuer would appear.

Fred wrapped the photos in his clothes and slipped the bundle into the bag. Grabbing one of Saul's cork fenders, he jammed that in to give it some buoyancy. Before he sealed it, he fished his revolver from his canvas bag and shoved that in as well. He hefted the package towards me. God, it felt too heavy to float.

We planned to slip over the side and swim for the rocks while Saul powered off round Les Dirouilles to the Paternosters, another four miles in the distance. We hoped Alf and his friends would chase after
Jacob's Star
and not spot us hiding in a gulley. As far as plans went, it was just on the reasonable side of desperate.

‘Hurry up. I can't hold her much longer.' Saul sounded frightened.

I started to clamber over the side but Rachel grabbed my arm. ‘Wait. I'm coming with you.'

‘Don't be silly. It's too dangerous.'

She ignored me, slipped out of her shorts and pulled her top over her head. She was wearing that crimson swimming costume which showed her figure off to perfection. I knew she looked even better without it and hoped no one spotted the secret grin on my face.

Fred certainly didn't. He gripped her elbow. ‘No, Rachel. There's no need. We can manage.'

She looked at Fred but spoke to me. ‘Jack knows why I'm coming.'

He turned to me, puzzled.
She knew, she realised that I might panic in the deep water.
I glowed in the sudden warmth of a friendship I really didn't deserve. I felt a great relief.

‘Come on then – you can dive for the sack if I drop it,' I said.

She unsealed the sack, folded her clothes, picked up two towels and stuffed them in.

‘Get a bloody move on. They'll be in sight any second now.' Saul blipped the throttles to remind us that our plan depended on speed. We had to swim at least twenty yards before we could hide from the boat as it rounded the rocks.

I lowered myself in and paddled off with the sack. Thankfully, it floated. Fred slid alongside me and Rachel eased past, allowing Saul to engage gear and chug away.

The brown kelp, slithering about in the grip of the current, reached out for us as we neared the first granite outcrop.
Jacob's Star
was up to full speed now, exiting stage north in a cloud of diesel.

We slid behind the first group of rocks as the blue hull of our pursuer appeared. The stench of iodine was overpowering. I sucked in a lungful as we clung with the myriad of limpets to the craggy surface.

I could hear the little shit swearing profusely as he saw our boat surging away. I prayed they would chase after it but they throttled back. They were suspicious. The engines burbled as they glided towards us.

I tapped the others on their heads and pointed below. We couldn't take the sack under but it would be camouflaged amongst the rocks. I swallowed as much air as I could hold and forced my body to sink, using my arm strength to push up against the rocks.

Rachel and Fred were light-coloured blurs alongside me. I could hear the twin screws cavitating as the blue hull nudged closer to the rocks. Another thirty seconds and they would have us. Saul would be too far away to help.

Suddenly, a dark shape rushed past us and, with a flick of its fin, shot to the surface. A dolphin had found us and wanted to play.

My breath was gone but I eased myself up until my nostrils were clear. The boat was side on, only yards away. Alf was leaning over the bow, pointing at our saviour, who had broken surface and was staring at this intrusion into its territory with a pair of glassy eyes. I felt the other two alongside.

I took in another breath and pushed myself deep again and listened. The engine exhaust note changed and the burble was replaced with a buzz, then a scream as someone cracked open the throttle.

I waited until it was a distant wail before breaking surface again. The dolphin looked curiously at me then, with an elastic quiver, was gone.

We waited until the boat was a dot on the horizon before navigating our way through the rocky outcrops. The main cluster loomed high to the south but we had to cross a wide channel first. It narrowed at the eastern end, funnelling the water through with some speed. Even though there was no swell, small wavelets broke over the granite at its entrance.

This was going to be tricky as the tide was ebbing rapidly. Combine that with the swirling currents, and the next fifty yards looked a very long way. I was thinking too much again.

Fred still had one hand on the rock and reached out with the other for the sack. Once we let go, we had to hope we could swim strongly enough to make headway as the tide and current thrust us sideways. If we missed rock fall on the other side, we would have no chance of getting to Marmotier until the tide turned. That might take another three hours. The water was deep here. I wanted that sack for its buoyancy but I couldn't fight Fred for it.

Rachel manoeuvred around the rock and nudged into me, reading my thoughts. ‘You can do it. It's not that far. I've got the strongest leg kick. Give me the sack.'

Fred looked reluctant but shoved it towards her.

‘You two follow.' She pushed the sack in front of her like a cork training float and kicked off. I waited to see how the cross current would affect her but she was making forward progress.

Fred pushed off and quickly caught her up. He had a strong stroke, which shouldn't have surprised me as he had played water polo in his youth.

I waited until he was alongside Rachel. I needed to sprint the distance, to fill my brain with speed to prevent myself thinking dark thoughts about the depth of the water and the lack of support if I got cramp or panicked. I curled my legs up and sprang off the rock.

I passed them within a few strokes and was into mid-stream within seconds. The push on my breathing side was getting stronger and I knew I was only making crab-like progress. I broke my stroke to look up.